Playing God
by Wolfie338
Summary: America is on the run, England doesn't remember anything from his past life and everything is just confusing. Rating may change.


**I'm strangely proud of this…**

** Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

Chapter One

"Now, back to our top story…"

"…Rain is expected on Tuesday, but that should clear away to leave us with some bright spells for later in the week…"

"A recent study shows us that fifty two percent of the UK population…"

He wanted them to shut up. He wanted the screens to turn off, to leave him in complete darkness. He wanted the men and women in suits on the screens to stop droning on about things he couldn't care less about…

He also wanted some clothes.

England lay on the cold ground, looking past the screens that encircled him, and watching where the light dimmed and darkened on the horizon. He felt like he needed to shiver, for his skin to start covering itself in goose bumps. He sighed loudly, taking his eyes off the horizon and, instead, focusing on the bright ball of light hovering above him.

"Good morning, Mister England," A calming voice, the light, said to him, "Is there anything I can do for you this morning?" England sat up and frowned at the light.

"I take it that clothes are still unavailable," England muttered and the light said nothing. England stretched his arms up, his shoulders clicking, "A cup of tea, would be nice," England stood up, "And maybe a crumpet."

Immediately, the light started moving, swooping down faster than a bird of prey and stopping just a few feet away from where England stood. Underneath the light, a table appeared suddenly and England padded over to it. On the table was a steaming pot of tea, an empty cup and a pitcher of cream. On a tiny plate, sat a single, perfect crumpet, already smothered in butter and toasty warm, just the way England liked it.

Glancing up at the light, England murmured a thanks and started pouring out his tea. He took a sip, letting the familiar and blessed flavour melt into his taste buds and he smiled to himself.

England watched at the screens skipped between channels every few minutes. First the news, then a documentary, a child's cartoon and then back to the news, each screen telling him the same thing over and over again. This was getting dull.

He rubbed at his temples, trying to recall anything from before he'd arrived here, but his memories seemed to be blank. England looked away from the blinking screens and up to the light. There was something strange about how the light just floated there, always watching and always waiting for England to give it a command. The way the light almost gazed into England's soul made him feel uneasy and a nagging thought in the back of his mind told him to fear this thing, to be scared of it.

"Where am I?" England asked, like he'd done daily for… a long time. The light seemed to chuckle, bouncing up and down slightly.

"Why, you are in paradise, Mister England."

* * *

America arrived at Mike Perry's house during the early hours of the morning. He hammered on the door for a good five minutes, shaking from the cold of the rain, before the click of the lock sounded and the door swung open. A slightly chubby man with thick glasses glared up at him from the doorway. His glare dropped suddenly at the realisation that it was America, and his eyes widened. He quickly tried to slam the door in his nation's face, but America jammed his foot into the doorframe.

"No, no!" Mike Perry cried as America all but forced his way into the dry and warmth of Mike's home. "You can't be here! You need to leave!"

"Look," America suddenly turned to Mike and grabbed his shoulder with a bit too much force, causing the man to wince slightly, "If the cops find me, I'll take full responsibility for everything. I'll say that I threatened you and you had no other choice, but I really, really need your help." Mike's mouth opened and closed a few times, unable to form words. America let go of the man's shoulder and slipped his soaking shoes and jacket off. Mike followed America through to the living room, where America dumped his bag down and promptly collapsed on to the sofa.

"Why, are you here, America?" Mika asked, sitting down in the chair and staring at the blond from across the coffee table. America closed his eyes for a second, suddenly exhausted from running for so long, "Why here, of all the places you could have gone?"

America rubbed at his face. His eyes were dry, his smile was gone and the brightness in his blue eyes had faded. He suddenly sat up, clasping his hands together and sighing loudly.

"They have England," He muttered. Mike's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"Who has England?" He asked and America scratched at his chin.

"I don't know," He admitted, his hand moving from the chin to the back of his neck, trying to massage out any kinks, "But it's not the government, that's for sure."

"So, if it's not the government then…"

"It's someone higher than the government," America replied and Mike pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"Wait, wait, start over," Mike sighed, "So, there are people; we don't know who, just people; who have England," America nodded, "So, why did you come here?"

"We need to finish Project X-15," Mike stood up quickly, his face suddenly red and his hands fisted.

"No!" Mike cried, "They scrapped my machine, remember? They said it was trash and unnecessary!" America pulled his bag over to him and he unzipped it. He pulled out a long roll of blue paper and handed it to Mike. After unravelling it, Mike dropped the paper like it was hot coal. His jaw dropped as he stared down at the white notes and designs written all over it. "I-Is this…?"

"An ungraded model of Project X-15," America said, his voice low, "Fully working and in use, right now in Nevada."

* * *

"Hey, England?" England didn't glance up from his needlework, humming lightly to indicate that he was listening. Next to him, America has his arm stretched out across the back of the sofa, his fingers toying with the soft, blond hairs at the base of England's neck and his head was resting against his bicep, his eyes trained on England's profile, "England can I… Can I kiss you?"

The smaller nation's head jerked up, his full attention now on America and his brilliant green eyes wide in shock.

"Why would you want to do that?" England asked as he placed his needlework on the coffee table in front of them. America smiled brightly.

"Because I like you, and I know you like me too, Arthur," England blushed at the use of his human name, usually a gesture saved for when out in public or between lovers. America shifted, moving just a touch closer to England, "I thought it'd be better to ask, rather than just swoop in and get punched." America grinned as England turned his head away.

"Well, sometimes, swooping in is better than asking," America lifted his head at England's muttered words. He reached up to caress England's cheek and gently turned his head towards him. The fingers at the base of the island nation's neck buried themselves into the blond locks and the two of them budged closer to each other.

The first kiss was just a peck, lips barely brushing together for a moment before one of them pulled away. But, the first kiss lead to a second, third and fourth, each kiss longer and more passionate than the last. At the sixth, England's arms came up to circle America's neck, his hands dipping down passed the fur collar of his jacket, pulled him closer. Between the eighth and ninth, America moved his hand down from England's cheek to his thigh, rubbing small circles into the muscle with his thumb.

Neither of them pulled back from the eleventh kiss, their noses bumping carelessly as their lips moulded together perfectly. America nipped at England's bottom lip, testing the waters to see what kind of reaction he would get. Inwardly, he smirked as he heard a groan at the back of England's throat. Another nip and England's lips parted slightly. A tongue brushed against teeth and…

"Angleterre! I have come to see if you want to go drinking tonight~ You're always so much more fun when… ohonhonhon~ Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?"

"You bloody fucking frog!"

* * *

England found himself fascinated over the colour blue, as of late. Not the dull, dark blues that the news presenters would wear, but the bright blue of the sky in their world. He'd seen it a few times when someone was filming out of the studio, in the background, sometimes in plain view, other times obscured by leaves and branches and buildings.

It was a nice shade of blue, and he felt happy whenever he saw it.

"Tell me about… the colour blue." England instructed the light one day as he watched a news segment on the decreasing butterfly population in Britain.

"I do not understand, Mister England," The light said and England looked away from the screen to glare up at the ball of light.

"What do you know about the colour blue?" England asked and the ball swayed back and forth, thinking for a moment.

"On the optical spectrum, blue is located between violet and green," The light reported, "It's commonly associated with the sky and the sea."

"What else?" England asked, sitting down on the ground.

"It's a popular colour. Darker shades include cobalt blue, navy and Prussian blue," England wrinkled his nose when the light said Prussian. There was something about that word… "Light shades vary from azure to sky." England rubbed at his nose, listening as the light spouted useless knowledge on the colour blue. England lay down on his stomach, burying his nose in his arms and watching the light from the corner of his eye.

"Hey could you…" England paused to lick his lips, "Could you make it so that I see the sky?" The light said nothing and England sighed, "Okay, so I can't have the sky, like I can't have clothes?" The light bobbed up and down and England lifted his head, watching with wide eyes as the screens faded and the horizon started to colour. England stood up, a small smile on his face.

It was the perfect colour, a lovely, gentle blue almost bordering on purple and England couldn't help but stare at the sky that the light had given him. England started thinking of eyes this colour, corn blond hair, thin glasses and…

The sky hurriedly disappeared and England glared at the light.

"What was that for?" England cried and the light stayed silent, "I was… remembering something, bring it back. Please, just bring the sky back."

"But, that's exactly the problem," The light said, it's voice as calming and gentle as always, "You started remembering."

* * *

Mike Perry stared down at the blueprints America had given him, jotting down notes every now and again on a separate piece of paper. Soon after America had arrived and given Mike the paper, he'd suddenly fallen asleep on the sofa, snoring softly. Mike had covered him with a blanket and moved himself to his study.

He bit his bottom lip in frustration and gripped his pen so hard it nearly snapped. How dare they steal his machine! How dare they tell him that it was useless to the future! Mike looked away from the blueprints to rub at his eyes. Five hours, he'd been studying the working X-15, or Z-15 as it was called, and he just wanted to get back to sleep.

A knock on the door caused Mike to stand quickly, almost knocking everything off the table and rush to the front door in hopes of not disturbing America. He threw open the door to see a tall man standing in the doorway, all smiles and muscles.

"A-Andrew!" Mike stuttered, suddenly remembering that Andrew and he were planning to go out that morning. Andrew smiled brightly down at Mike.

"Hey man," He said, entering the house when Mike moved out of the way, "You ready to go?" Mike shook his head, trying to be quiet for the sake of the sleeping nation that was currently only a few feet away.

"I'm so sorry, Andrew," Mike said, keeping his voice down, "But I'm going to have to take a rain check." Andrew blinked.

"Why?" He asked and Mike nodded towards the living room. Andrew moved through, eyes widening when he saw America dozing and then spun around to grab Mike's arm and drag him into the study, "What's he doing here?" Andrew cried, his voice low.

"He-"

"We need to call the police, this guy is a wanted criminal!" Andrew started pacing the room, "Dude's been all over the news lately. I knew he was no good! Making all of those secretive phone calls whenever he helped you work on machine, I swear, he was probably the reason why it was scrapped in the first place!" Mike took Andrew's wrist, silencing him.

"He needs my help," Mike said and picked up the blueprints, shoving them into Andrew's face, "Something's… happened, Andrew. It's very complicated and… Alfred is going to have to explain it to you himself because I have no idea where to start and I don't know a lot about it, okay?" Andrew stood there for a second, his eyes flicking between his friend and the blueprints.

From the living room, they heard a loud thump and a groan of pain. Both men rushed through, to find that America had fallen off the sofa and was rubbing where his forehead had hit the coffee table.

"Son of a bitch, that hurts!" America whined, wincing at the pain in his head, "That is very a good way to start a day." He glanced up to see Mike and Andrew staring down at him and nodded towards Andrew in greeting. Andrew nodded back.

"Ame-Alfred. Do you want some coffee?" Mike quickly asked, trying to keep the tension between his two friends to a minimum. Alfred's head perked up.

"Yeah, I could really do with some coffee," America said, standing up and stretching, his bones creaking and cracking, "The last cup of coffee I had was two days ago and it tasted nasty." Mike smiled sympathetically as he headed for the kitchen.

"Do me a favour, Alfred and tell Andrew what's going on," Mike cried as he heard Andrew and America start to bicker.

* * *

"America, when are you coming to visit? You said you'd be here two weeks ago."

"In a few days, baby, I promise."

"Are you still at that science… place?"

"It's a research facility and yes, I am."

"For God's sake. Why are you still there?"

"There's this one guy, Mike, and he's got this machine that could really change people's lives. It'd be ground breaking if it actually works."

"If, Alfred. Sometimes things very go the way they planned."

"I know. I just have high hopes for this project, that's all. I want to see if it'll work."

"Of course you do."

"I've got a ticket booked for me to fly out on Monday, then we can spend a whole week together, how does that sound?"

"Bloody brilliant."

"I'll be there to warm up your bed~"

"That- Just- Stupid boy…"

"You're blushing, right now, aren't you?"

"Of course I'm not! Gentlemen do not blush."

"Babe, I don't mean to be rude, but you're not the most gentlemanly person when it comes to the bedroom, if you know what I mean."

"Will you just… Ahem. Monday."

"Monday."

"I'll see you then, and… I love you."

"I love you too. I gotta go, Mike's friend Andrew is looking at me weird again."

"That's because you are weird."

"Aw, you're a meanie! Haha, see ya!"

"Have fun, Alfred."

* * *

**First chapter yay~**

** This is little plot to this one at the moment~~**

**Mike Perry and Andrew are random characters I made up for the purpose of this story.**


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